Dangerous Waters
by FallenCrimsonStar
Summary: The word is out: Draco Malfoy is the true master of the Elder Wand. An angry Voldemort escapes the battle at Hogwarts, his eyes set on Draco. But he isn't the only one who wants a piece of him. And the question now is: who will find him first? Dark themes. Dramione.


Hiya. ^_^

Another fic... well, this one's just to test the waters, so to speak. If you guys don't like it, I'll... well, I'll probably just cry, lol. ;)

Inspiration for this fic: I've never read a story where Draco was both the master of the Elder Wand and actively hunted because of it. I still have some incomplete Naruto fics, but won't be actively avoiding Dangerous Waters. I love this story, very much, and I hope you guys do too. Enjoy! ^_^

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– Chapter 1 –  
.:. Wanted .:.

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So this was his punishment for not turning in Potter and his freaky friends.

One day, when he looked back at these events, he hoped he still had enough sarcasm in himself for some witty, snide remark about the irony of it all. Most people would find it hilarious, in hindsight or not, that of all the wizards in Britain, Draco Malfoy was the one who stole Harry Potter's place on Voldemort's most wanted list. The gods jested, Merlin cursed him, and just to top off the ridiculous imbalance, the fates decided he would suffer just for the sake of it. Oh, it was all about him.

Like he would just sit back and let them have the last say.

Draco didn't wake immediately, still dreaming about throttling some red headed Weasley whose face he couldn't see, when the pain first shot through him. His body didn't even respond at all, but he was suddenly aware of how far he'd fallen. It was a botched job; his survival that was. He hadn't had people to rely on, like Potter did, or his powerful allies. Draco was clever, intelligent, quick on his feet and far better looking, but for some reason, survival never came easy to him, ever.

And that stupid Weasley? Well, he had Granger to pick him up when he toppled arse over elbow like the dolt he was.

Draco felt a familiar stab of jealousy at that thought, but pushed it away as his body finally started to respond to his need to regain consciousness. His world had exploded: this had to be why it hurt so much. The throbbing sensation was followed by spasms of pain and a hot, sticky feeling; it trickled over the back of his cranium, pooling at the base of his skull where its movements were impeded by the scraping of his head against the ground.

And that was just the beginning of his problems.

Draco was blindfolded, bound by what he supposed was magically summoned ropes via the Incarcerous spell, and grimy. His body had been dragged over dirt, grass and something that smelled suspiciously like toxic waste, for the past five minutes. His nerve endings were only now just catching onto this.

Draco Malfoy groaned and opened his eyes as he was unceremoniously dropped to the ground; the sounds of rushing feet nearby alerted him to the very dangerous position he was in. After leaving the battle at Hogwarts, he, his mother, and father had been ambushed. He couldn't remember if it had been ten minutes or ten hours afterward, but it was definitely quick. He had no idea why they'd been targeted, by both Death Eaters and unfamiliar wizards, both seemingly after them for their own purposes.

All he knew for sure was that this was all Potter's fault. He just didn't know why. Voldemort wasn't dead, right. The chosen one was supposed to finish him off at that battle, and apparently, the snake had managed to slip away. But still, Draco didn't yet know why he was being targeted.

Separated from his parents in the ambush, he'd spent the past two weeks on the run, carrying his mother's wand and attacked every time he tried to enter any kind of magical establishment, or territory for that matter. It confused him and confounded him; what the hell was going on? And since when did Death Eaters break down doors just to kidnap him? Harry 'Saint' Potter was still alive, so why in Merlin's name would Voldemort want him?

The ambush that had awaited him and his parents played on his mind, but it still made no sense. And Draco had a feeling he would die not knowing the reason for the sudden shift in the Dark Lord's attention after he was dragged in front of Bellatrix Lestrange. His captors had summoned her, clearly not having the Dark Mark in order to summon their true master, and his blood had run cold at the sound of her name. That was what sparked his prayer to whatever god happened to be listening.

'_I promise, if you let me survive this,'_ he thought, gritting his teeth, '_I will be nicer to Mudbloods, ruder to Death Eaters, and… uh, I won't call Potter 'Potty' anymore.'_

That was, if he ever saw him again, either way. The voices of his captors, as they lifted him off the ground (not dragging this time), were unfamiliar.

"Don't drop him on his head," a thick voice said. "The Dark Lord wants him in one piece."

"Don't know why; he's so pretty, I could ugly this one up so easily."

"You'll shut your gob and do as you're told, ya filthy half-breed."

Draco's heart raced at the sound of the feral growling. One of the wizards carrying him was actually a werewolf! He struggled with his bindings, knowing it would do him no good; it had to be magically released. Shifting his body as he was dumped on the ground again, Draco felt a sharp object in his jacket at the fall and realised these idiots hadn't taken away his wand.

Well, it was actually his mother's wand. But he hadn't had time to raise it when they'd shot him with a jet of red light and he didn't even remember hitting the ground.

"Calm down, boy," the werewolf growled. "Or I'll slice you up again."

They remained silent for a few minutes, while Draco tried to reach into his jacket, eyes shut tightly; he wasn't half bad at wandless spells, with the non-verbal kind coming as easily to him as breathing, so he was fairly confident he'd be able to do something before his Aunt Bella turned up.

He was wrong.

Draco was just getting a slight tremor in his magic working when he heard the all too familiar crack of Apparition, followed by the tell-tale sound of swishing robes. Terrified and still blindfolded, Draco immediately stilled his movements, but still concentrated on his magic desperately.

"Well, well," Bellatrix's sing-song voice drifted over to him. "Lookie here: looks like you two finally did something right."

"What did you say?"

"You heard me, doggie, now shush! Let me see my handsome nephew."

Soft hands lifted him up and Draco let out an involuntary cough, realising then that the blood that had pooled at the base of his skull was now trickling down his neck. The open wound stung, but not as much as the nails that now dug into his skin as his aunt removed his blindfold.

"There you are now, my pretty," she cackled.

Darkness had pervaded his vision for so long, that even the sight of his aunt's face mere inches from him was a blast of light by comparison. Still, blinking heavily and adjusting to the release from this particular impairment, he wished the sight that greeted him would have been a friendly one. He'd even take Pansy Parkinson over this deranged woman, hell, Theodore Nott, or Blaise Zabini even. All three of them had been his friends at Hogwarts (Crabbe and Goyle were just like their parents, which was more like gargoyles than actual companions), but over the past year, they'd all drifted apart.

Bellatrix looked exactly like the last time he'd seen her, deranged, excited and unkempt. But her gleeful smile quickly twisted into outrage and she shook him slightly before releasing him to stand on his own feet.

"Who did this?" She asked, turning away from him and toward the masked men who had dragged Draco to this flat land. "Who broke him?"

She was of course, referring to the open wound on the back of Draco's head, more obvious to her now, with the blood running down his neck and shoulder. He wished she would stop screeching and just staunch the bleeding instead.

The werewolf pointed at his companion immediately and said wizard immediately growled, more fitting the wolfish persona. "I did no such thing, ya shite!"

"Avada Kedavra!" Bellatrix wasted no time, throwing her wand arm up and killing the both of them. Their bodies fell noisily, despite the quick, silent stiffening that ended their lives. She smirked. "No touching." She turned back to her nephew. "The Dark Lord has ordered you untouched by wands and unhurt."

She pressed her wand to the back of his head, healing the wound, before moving it over his body, using Scourgify on the blood and the muck sticking to his person from his unceremonious journey to this place. Draco spared his surrounding a quick glance (it consisted of flat ground of grass and dirt, with trees, a few fences and what looked like a Muggle community in the distance) before closing his eyes. The Dark Mark burned, and he knew why; Bella had finished with him and was summoning her master. He needed to get out of here, and fast!

His eyes sprung open as he felt the magic coursing through him building up, and Bellatrix started humming. She had a look on her face that he knew very well. It was a mixture of gleeful, murderous, and aberrant.

"Please," he said, his voice coming out gravelly, "don't kill me."

"Oh no, Draco," she cooed. "I'm not here to kill you."

He whimpered as her fingers trailed down the front of his shirt. "Aunt Bella?"

"Hm, I always liked it when you called me that." She cackled. "But Lucius wouldn't let me make you scream it."

Draco was frozen in shock. What the hell?

"Too bad," she said, spinning the wand in her hand and twirling it like it was a toy rather than a powerful, magical aid. "I always thought Lucius was attractive." She smirked at the horrified look on her nephew's face. "Fear not, pretty, the Dark Lord wants you in one piece and I would just bloody you up anyway."

She was disgusting. Draco shivered, revolted by the look on her face, and closed his eyes, trying to focus on his wandless magic. He needed something that would get him away from here, but hadn't yet tried Disapparating without a wand. His mother's wand was within reach as he diligently attacked the invisible roped holding him against his will. He ignored the renewed promises of pleasure coming from the deranged woman holding on to him. A moment later, he was ready.

But it didn't matter.

Sparks of red and green flew above his head and his eyes snapped open as his aunt released him. Her attention was directed elsewhere, and Draco realised that, in his concentration, he'd completely missed the distinctive crack as what looked like half a dozen robed wizards and witches Apparated into the clearing.

Draco fell over, narrowly avoiding a jet of green light (had to be Avada), and looked around. This fight was on several fronts, and more were Apparating in.

'_What the hell?'_

He didn't have time to dwell, and rolled out of the way, his magic bursting forth and breaking his bonds before he managed to grip his mother's wand and draw it. But in the chaos, he had no idea who was friend and who was foe. Not that he considered anyone a friend anymore.

A blast directed his way shattered a nearby tree and Draco threw up a Protego before turning on his heels. A pain in his side (literally) interrupted his attempt to Disapparate, and Draco fell forward, onto the ground once more. The magical wood he still clutched in his hand broke in half and he cried out, landing awkwardly.

He wouldn't stay down long however; voices called out to him, but with his mother's wand snapped in half all he could do was run.

Clear as day, Bellatrix's voice rang out in the still of the fast approaching night; screaming followed her harsh cackling. The hissing of passing hexes and minor curses roared past Draco's ear and he struggled not to fall or falter.

"Come on, little boy!" Bellatrix screamed. "Your daddy wants to see you again!"

She had always been quite the markswoman, her spells deadly accurate, despite her unhinged mind. A ricochet off of another spell hit him, full force in the back of the head, reopening the wound she'd healed (or badly healed, really). The ground was as merciless as ever, and he rolled onto his back, praying for a quick end. A dark, blurry figure advanced on him, but without his wand, he was defenceless. Draco threw his arms up to fend off their attack, but it never came.

A bright light mixed in with screams alluded to the fact that Bellatrix's advance on him had not gone unnoticed, and Draco didn't want to look up into the eyes of the person who had won that battle. Sleep began to overpower him, against his will, and more soft hands caressed him as he drifted off. At the sensation, he couldn't stop the shudder that tore through his body. Whatever madness it was that had gripped the Wizarding World, it wasn't over, not by a long shot.

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Good? Bad? Terrible? Worth continuing..? Do tell. :)

**R&R.**


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